


Do No Harm

by protectginozasquad



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cancer, Hospitals, M/M, questionable medical ethics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectginozasquad/pseuds/protectginozasquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most days, being an oncologist felt like an accomplishment. But the day Daichi met Sugawara Koushi, he wished he would have chosen any other career path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do No Harm

**Author's Note:**

> i hate everything
> 
> thegreatcatsby (catsbythegreat on tumblr) gave me this prompt and also the title
> 
> i'm on tumblr as kageyamas-mom, come cry with me

_I just hope you know_  
_that if you say goodbye today_  
_I'd ask you to be true,_  
_'cause the hardest part of this_  
_is leaving you._  
_~Cancer, My Chemical Romance_

Don’t get attached.

A mentor told Daichi that once, while he was in medical school. 

He thought he knew what that meant, back then. 

He hadn’t expected a kind pair of eyes and a soft smile to come into his office. Daichi was an oncology doctor, not the most experienced, but a bit of a protege. He and his fellow graduate Oikawa were not the top brain oncologists, but they were climbing the ladder. Most days, this felt like an accomplishment. 

The day Daichi met Sugawara Koushi, he wished he would have chosen any other career path. 

“I didn’t expect to be transferred to the oncology department,” Suga said, brow scrunched up in concern. Daich would have been concerned, too, if he had come in complaining of vertigo, only to be sent to the cancer floor. 

“There’s no need to get too worked up right now, Sugawara-san,” Daichi answered lamely. Suga wasn’t getting worked up. 

“I just don’t understand exactly why I’m here. And call me Suga.” 

Daichi stitched on his doctor mask, the barrier he usually put up between himself and his patients growing thinner with every moment he looked into those hazel eyes, every time he noticed something new, like the beauty mark under Suga’s left eye. 

“Sometimes if there are neurological changes accompanied with the vertigo you came in for, other doctors will send patients to us to check out some other things.” 

“Other things?” 

Daichi nodded, knowing he should answer more precisely but suddenly losing his well-honed abilities. He pulled out the tiny flashlight. 

“I need to look at your pupils,” Daichi clicked the flashlight on. Suga’s eyes would have been perfect, but Daichi wished he could see more of the hazel and less darkness. Dilated pupils did not bode well. 

Suga opened his eyes wide, and Daichi flicked the light in each of them. He hid the disappointment when the dilation didn’t decrease with the light, as it normally would have. Even still, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Suga’s eyes were. If he had been able to see a little more of the hazel, Daichi thought there would probably be gold flecks speckling them. 

“Your pupils are dilated. Have you experienced any sudden changes in your mood or memory?” 

Suga blinked, his would-be-perfect eyes clouded with something like fear. He nodded. Daichi tried to keep his expression neutral. 

“Aside from the vertigo, has anything else felt off?” 

“I’ve been having trouble eating, but that’s all I can think of.” 

“What kind of trouble? Loss of appetite?” 

“No, I just can’t keep anything down. I thought it was a stomach bug, but I don’t have a fever or anything.” 

“We need to do some scans and run some tests as soon as possible,” Daichi tried to deliver the news levelly, without causing alarm. “Can you come back in tomorrow? I have a 3pm appointment open.” 

Suga looked at Daichi, as if studying his face. Daichi was worried for a moment, but then Suga, somehow, despite the ominous news, smiled. 

“It’ll be nice to see you again so soon,” Suga said, and Daichi felt his heart twist. “3pm is fine.” 

+++

Daichi felt nervous all of the next day. Clammy palms, sweaty brow, he was having a hard time paying attention. Most of his appointments in the morning were routine. Some were good news: a negative biopsy and a chemo treatment that was shrinking the tumor. Daichi liked days like this one. 

Suga arrived early. 

“Your 3:00 is here, Dr. Sawamura,” the receptionist, Kiyoko, came to Daichi’s office. His 2pm had cancelled. 

“You can, um, call him back now.” 

She quirked an eyebrow, but only for a second. “Alright then.” 

Suga came back, smiling. Daichi wondered how on earth he could smile after being called urgently to a second appointment with an oncologist. 

“Hello, Dr. Sawamura.” 

“Please,” Daichi released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, “call me Daichi.” He never said that. 

“Alright then, Daichi.” 

Suga took a seat on the examination table. 

“Today we’re going to do a CT scan and an MRI,” Daichi handed a clipboard with consent paperwork on it. Suga glanced over it before signing. 

When he handed the clipboard back, he asked in a calm voice, “What kind of cancer are you scanning for?” 

“We’re going to scan your whole body, but the kind of symptoms you’re describing could be a few different kinds. Most likely,” Daichi braced himself, “brain cancer.” 

Suga’s eyes widened. He didn’t say anything. 

“We really won’t know anything until the scans are back.” 

“I understand,” Suga said, looking vacant. 

The scans didn’t take long, by the time Suga emerged from the awful machines, his smile was back. He thanked Daich pleasantly, as though this weren’t the most devastating thing that could happen. A smile like his seemed permanent. He hardly even looked scared. 

Daichi knew better. Daichi knew he was. For some reason, he wished Suga wouldn’t hide it. 

It was definitely against protocol, but Daichi felt his heart skip when Kiyoko handed him a note.

“This was with his paperwork. I think it’s for you.” 

“Oh,” he tried not to look too surprised. “Thank you.” Kiyoko nodded and left Daichi to his office. 

It was a tiny folded up paper with “Daichi” written on it in cursive. In tiny, adorable letters, a small message was written, followed by a phone number.

“I don’t know if you’re supposed to, but I’d like it if you called me. ~Suga” 

Daichi did call, later that night. His fingers shook slightly, and he tried to get the notes he had written on Suga’s chart out of his head. 

“Hello?” Suga’s voice was just as soft as it had been in the office. 

“Sugawara Koushi?” 

“Dr. Sawamura?” 

“I thought we were past the honorifics. You wrote Daichi on the paper, didn’t you?” 

A giggle sounded from the other end of the line. “I felt it was a bit presumptuous. And please, don’t call me Sugawara. Only my mother calls me that.” 

“It wasn’t presumptuous, Suga,” Daichi smiled at the sound of Suga’s laugh. It was oddly fitting. Everything about Suga was sincere, even the strange smile that hid the fear. 

“I know I saw you twice this week already, but the circumstances were unfavorable,” Suga sounded like he was talking about the weather, not the very real possibility that he had cancer. “I was wondering if I could see you again, somewhere more comfortable?” 

“Of course,” Daichi said without hesitation, and the rational part of his brain told him to give Oikawa’s information to Suga immediately. Referral was the first thing they taught in medical ethics. But he didn’t want to refer Suga. 

“How does tomorrow afternoon work for you? Or I have the next three days off. So anytime really-”

“Tomorrow sounds lovely,” Suga said. “I’ll see you then.” He hung up. 

Daichi pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it, disbelief running through him. 

+++ 

They met for coffee at Daichi’s favorite cafe, and he pretended to forget. They talked about everything but Suga’s condition. 

Suga’s only close relative was his mother. They talked every day. He was a high school literature teacher, although he had been put on temporary leave when the vertigo started to interfere with his ability to teach. He loved spicy food, and it was the thing he missed the most about having a regular appetite. 

Daichi talked about the hospital, about Oikawa and the research they were working on together. He wondered if maybe cancer wasn’t something he should talk about, but Suga seemed happy to listen, as though it comforted him to know that Daichi was doing everything he could.

They talked until the cafe closed, and by then it was dark. Daichi couldn’t believe how the time flew by. Talking with Suga was so easy, it was as natural as breathing.

“I’m hungry, you know,” Suga said as they left. With a wink, he added, “I don’t want to stop being with you yet.” 

This was a bolder move than Daichi expected, and he felt blood rush to his cheeks. 

“I-I’m not much of a cook,” he stuttered, “but I have some food at home, if you want to join me.” 

Suga laughed, louder than he had before, and Daichi felt like he could listen to that sound forever. 

“I would love to.” 

It was a short walk from the cafe to Daichi’s house, and the cool air blew softly around them. Before he knew what he was doing, Daichi had reached for Suga’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Suga squeezed Daichi’s hand, and in his periphery Daichi could see him smile. 

When they kissed after dinner, Daichi was happy he could close his eyes so he didn’t have to see Suga’s dilated pupils. He wasn’t sure who had initiated the kiss, but it didn’t matter. Suga was warm but bony as Daichi wrapped his arms around his frame. He said at his last appointment that he’d lost weight from all the vomiting. 

Daichi kissed him like he could make it better; like his affection could do what medicine could not. Suga kissed back more eagerly than Daichi would have thought, and Daichi guided them gently towards his couch. As they sank onto it, Daichi let Suga lay on top of him, threaded his hands through Suga’s hair, which was as soft as it looked. 

Suga leaned upwards, resting both of his elbows on Daichi’s chest to prop himself up. Daichi felt like he was being scrutinized. 

“What?” He asked grumpily, enjoying the domesticity of the moment. 

“You’re cute,” Suga said. Daichi’s cheeks flushed again. 

“I guess this is pretty unprofessional,” Daichi cupped both of Suga’s cheeks with his hands. He never wanted to let go. 

“I don’t care,” Suga said resolutely, before leaning down to kiss Daichi again. 

Daichi didn’t keep track of how long they laid on his couch; nor did he check his clock when they made their way to his room, burrowing into his blankets like they were already familiar with each other. They kissed and smiled. Suga tickled him, and as he laughed, Daichi pretended he could forget. 

Daichi woke before Suga. A mixture of happiness and guilt squeezed at his chest as the morning light danced across Suga’s face. Not only was this completely unethical as far as medical professionalism was concerned, but who was he to insert himself into Suga’s already complicated life? From his somewhat short career as an oncologist, Daichi knew that one of the hardest parts for patients is leaving the people they lov- cared about behind. 

“Don’t look so sad, Dr. Sawamura,” Daichi started at Suga’s voice. He hadn’t been paying attention to Suga’s quiet stirring.

“I d-didn’t know you were awake.” 

Suga laughed. “I can’t very well waste my precious time with you by sleeping, can I?” 

Daichi ran his fingers through Suga’s mussed bed-head, ignoring the subtle comment about how time might be running out. 

“This really is very unprofessional,” Daichi said again. 

Suga sighed. “I already told you that I don’t care. Come on, do you have any more food for breakfast?” 

He sat up, blinking as though confused, and Daichi thought of the long list of symptoms that would attach themselves to Suga’s file once he had a diagnosis. When Suga stood up from the bed, he stumbled, catching himself on the bedframe so he didn’t fall over.

“Suga?! Are you okay?” 

Suga rubbed the side of his head like it hurt. “Maybe if I hit my head enough times, I’ll scare the cancer away, what do you think?” 

Daichi stiffened. Suga hadn’t hit his head. A symptom of advanced brain cancer is disorientation. 

Another, he remembered, is loss of judgment; slips coming through that would otherwise be controlled. Daichi wondered suddenly if cancer was why Suga had asked to go home with him. 

+++ 

Oikawa looked at the MRI and CT scans like he would a bad plumbing job. As the consulting doctor on Suga’s case, it was his job to corroborate whatever Daichi saw. 

“I think it’s obvious what the prognosis is here, Daichi,” he said neutrally, pointing to the place on the MRI scan where Suga’s brainstem was. The darkened spot that indicated an inoperable tumor made Daichi feel like vomiting. He thought he was prepared for what the scans would show him, but he was wrong.

Daichi didn’t say anything. After he and Oikawa got through medical school, they had done their residencies at the same hospital they now worked in. Oncology had been something they decided on together. Not only was it ripe for research and innovation, but they also truly felt like there was so much good they could do, so many lives they could save. 

After being in the department for almost five years, they had excelled at it. Sometimes Daichi wondered if they had become too calloused, but how else could they manage? They learned that more often than not, they could do good, but they couldn’t save people. 

“Daichi?” Oikawa looked away from the imaging and focused on Daichi. “I know it isn’t good news. This is our job. Are you forgetting that?” 

Daichi’s fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. He didn’t look at Oikawa. 

“I saw you at the cafe with him, you know.” 

This time, Daichi turned his head towards Oikawa. 

“You what?” He shouldn’t be angry. It wasn’t Oikawa’s fault. He lived close by, Suga and Daichi had sat outside, where anyone could have seen them.

Oikawa shrugged. “I didn’t say anything to anyone. You should have referred him to me.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Daichi’s face was hot. He needed to calm down. 

Oikawa sighed. “I’m not here to lecture you. You’re my friend. You have to figure this out. I can tell him if you want me to.” 

It was a gesture only a medical professional could appreciate. 

“Thank you,” Daichi said, anger suddenly replaced by an overwhelming dread. “But I think I have to do this.” 

Oikawa nodded, features soft and understanding. “You’re a good doctor, Daichi.” 

“Am I?”

Oikawa smiled, small and kind and sad, saying nothing as he left the imaging room. 

+++ 

The clipboard was cold in Daichi’s hands, the shiny metal unfeeling, unable to know its contents, the words printed on the paper it held. His palms were clammy.

He had done this so many times before. Too many times. But when he walked into the examination room, with Suga looking at him, beauty mark under his left eye fitting him so perfectly, he felt like he knew nothing. 

“Hey,” he said. Unprofessional. 

“Hey,” Suga tilted his head, smiled. 

Daichi wouldn’t let himself get emotional. Suga couldn’t become the comforter. Daichi barely registered the sentences he said as they came out of his mouth. Somehow he heard, as though he weren’t the one speaking, “inoperable,” “four to six weeks,” “comfort care,” “affairs in order,” phrases and words that always hurt him to say. But they never hurt like this.

“I’m sorry,” he finished, coming back to himself. 

For a long time, Suga didn’t speak. 

“Why are you apologizing?” His eyes were soft when he finally answered. “It’s no one’s fault. You of all people should know that.” 

“I wish I could do something,” Daichi wanted to reach out, to interlace their fingers like he had done before. 

“You do a lot,” Suga said simply. Tiny tears, small as stars, were gathered in the corners of his eyes. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Daichi almost whispered. 

Suga nodded, blinking so the tears ran down his cheeks. “I’m scared.” 

“I know.” 

+++ 

“We’re taking you off his case, Sawamura-san.” 

Daichi felt his temper flare up. He sat up straight in the soft chair across from his supervisor’s desk. “Why?” He bit back a growl. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

“You know why.” 

Ukai’s words were firm, but his gaze was gentle. 

“Did Oikawa tell you?” 

“He didn’t need to.” 

Silence hung thick between them, like the fog surrounding Daichi’s head. Ukai was the director of the oncology department. It was his job to observe cases and their attending doctors. He was surprisingly intuitive, somehow knowing the ins and outs of each case despite the fact that he was hardly ever in the room with patients. 

“I need to help him.” 

Ukai waited a long time before responding. 

“You can help him, but not as his doctor. His doctor can’t help him. I don’t want this to be how it ends, for both of you.” 

A lump rose in Daichi’s throat. “Why can’t we help him?” 

Ukai sighed. “That’s not really a question. You know as well as I do there isn’t an answer.”

“I want the case because I want to be there w-when…” He couldn’t say it. 

“Talk to Suga,” Ukai said gently. “See if he’ll fill out the paperwork for you to get the familial privileges.” 

Daichi bit his lip, looked into his supervisor’s kind eyes, and nodded a silent thanks. 

“Also, I’m putting you on a paid leave of absence.” 

“What?” Daichi’s heart sank. He should have been worried about this all along, his breaching of ethics and professionalism. 

“Don’t worry. Despite the obvious moral gray area you’ve mixed yourself up in, I’m not going to fire you. I have a suspicion this won’t ever happen again, so I’ll leave it at that.” 

It was more than Daichi deserved, really. 

“I’m giving you time to spend with him,” Ukai continued. “Four to six weeks isn’t much time.” 

Daichi swallowed the lump in his throat. “No, it’s not.” 

He walked out of the hospital with his briefcase in his hand, numb and dizzy. He found his way home mechanically, only making it because he had done it so many times. 

He threw his briefcase down and pulled out his phone. Suga answered after the first ring, voice choked up. “Daichi?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Daichi spoke quickly, unable to control his words, “I would understand if you never want to see me again, but they’ve given your case to someone else and I have time so-” 

“Please, come see me,” Suga said before hanging up. A text message followed with his address. 

+++ 

Advanced brain cancer patients often die from brain bleeds or strokes as the cancer grows. 

Daichi spent his leave of absence almost entirely at Suga’s apartment. Suga had opted out of palliative chemotherapy, said his pain was manageable with the medication they were giving him. He said he didn’t want to die feeling miserable. 

The day Suga went to the hospital for the last time, they had woken together in Suga’s bed. Suga looked tired, blinking too often. He had been seeing double for the past week, joking that it was nice to get to see even more of Daichi. 

“I don’t feel well,” Suga said after staring at a breakfast he couldn’t eat. 

“Do you need me to get you something?” Daichi was desperate not to recognize the truth. 

“I think we need to go to the hospital,” Suga said, blinking back tears. 

“N-no, maybe we don’t-” 

“You know better than I do that we do,” Suga said. “I’ll call my mom.” 

It only took them a few minutes to get ready. Suga started to cry as he talked to his mother, assuring her that she would get to see him, that it was okay, he was okay. It wasn’t okay. Why did Suga have to be the one to say it? 

Oikawa was assigned the attending doctor. He squeezed Daichi’s shoulder as he left the room after all measures for Suga’s comfort had been assured. 

Some, blessedly, slip into comas before the end. Suga was one of those lucky ones who would die without realizing it. Daichi reminded himself that it was better this way. 

Just before he lost consciousness, Suga looked at Daichi, hazel eyes shining with a strength Daichi didn’t have. 

“It’s unfair of me to say this,” Suga said softly, “but I think I love you.” 

Daichi blinked, vision blurring with tears. “It’s not unfair,” he squeezed Suga’s hand, “I love you too.” 

Suga closed his eyes. Daichi could have sworn that Suga squeezed his hand one last time. 

Daichi stayed the whole time. Suga’s mother didn’t. She told Daichi she couldn’t watch him be so still. Daichi understood. With tears still running down his face he promised to come to the waiting room as soon as it was over. 

When Suga flatlined, his hand was still in Daichi’s. The beeping and the whirring that he had heard so many times seemed loud as sirens. 

How strange, Daichi thought as the familiar machines made noises, that for some reason, our machines are so loud when we die. 

As though the living could pretend that the dead haven’t grown silent. 

Four to six weeks wasn't long, but it was long enough. Long enough for Daichi to get attached.


End file.
